So, the fire alarm went off in my building about an hour ago. It’s 8:30 p.m., and they just let us back in. It was a false alarm, thankfully, no harm done. I feel a bit pumped, actually! But had this happened 3 years ago, I would NOT have handled it gracefully. 7:30 p.m. on a Friday night? I would’ve been 2 sheets to the wind, at least!  I see myself stumbling outside, panicky, probably disheveled, definitely embarrassed. Trying too hard to “play it cool,” hoping no one notices my flushed face. Possibly hiccupping. See, that’s the problem with alcohol, it’s all fun and games until it isn’t, until the social drinking turns into solo drinking, at home on your own. Hidden. Shameful. You won’t know it’s happening until it’s too late, and you find yourself declining an evening out with a friend because it will cut into your “me time.”

Instead, I felt calm, enjoyed the sight of the lovely firemen coming to save us, philosophized with a neighbour about the fact that it’s not the dead of a glacial January night. I had a lovely time, actually! Bonded with the people next door, exchanged numbers. Some new friends, what do you know! Ah sobriety. Three years in, and you still haven’t gotten old. I have this sneaking suspicion that you never will. Cheers to that!